


I'll Make It Out Alive

by Kaskade (orphan_account)



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anger, Angry Daryl, Angst and Feels, Awkward Tension, BDSM, Background Relationships, Blood and Gore, Captivity, Dom/sub, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fear, Forced Orgasm, Good Merle, Guns, Hurt Rick, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Bad At Summaries, I'm Not Ashamed, Isolation, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Kidnapping, Knives, Loss of Control, M/M, Men Crying, Merle Dixon Lives, Minor Andrea/Michonne (Walking Dead), Minor Maggie Greene/Glenn Rhee, Nightmares, Non-Sexual Submission, Not A Fix-It, Not Beta Read, Out of Character, POV Alternating, Panic Attacks, Philip Blake | The Governor Being an Asshole, Physical Abuse, Please Kill Me, Protective Daryl, Protective Merle, Psychological Torture, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rescue Missions, Rick Whump, Rickyl, Season/Series 04, Self-Sacrifice, Sexual Abuse, Sickfic, Sleep Deprivation, Slow Burn Daryl Dixon/Rick Grimes, Sobbing, Sorry Not Sorry, Starvation, Submission, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Timeline Fuckery, Triggers, Trust Issues, Verbal Abuse, Vomiting, Weird Plot Shit, What Have I Done
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-26
Updated: 2016-04-26
Packaged: 2018-06-04 04:40:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6641752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Kaskade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[Takes place in S04. Contains a lot of touchy subjects. Not for sensitive readers. Pretty graphic straight off the bat. Title is lyrics from Shawn Mendes' Stitches.]</p><p>Keep them alive. That's all that matters. When The Governor makes Rick meet him alone, Rick complies for the safety of his family. The Governor demands that Rick sacrifice himself. If he does so, The Governor won't attack the prison. Rick agrees, wanting to do best to keep his family safe. Only, the word sacrifice didn't exactly mean death, in The Governor's eyes. What happens next makes Rick very well wish he were dead.</p><p>When Daryl catches wind that Rick is being held captive in Woodbury, he doesn't hesitate. He sets out to find their leader, despite the group's objections. They said they needed him there, but what good was he, sitting behind a gate, waiting for Rick to get killed?</p><p>Can he even save Rick? Even if he does, will their leader be the same?</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Make It Out Alive

**Author's Note:**

> Such a shitty summary. Oops. I don't really care though. And whatever the hell happens in this chapter is just a whiff compared to what's coming. Again, I'm not sorry.
> 
> This came from the depths of my evil mind. I'm not ashamed though. This is also probably the most cliche thing to ever exist. You know, I don't really care though. I'm writing this to get this...itch to write off of me. Merle's a good guy and sees the way Daryl looks at Rick, so he's protective of Rick too. I dunno, I feel like Merle could've been a really good character. And, it's also pretty graphic from the start. This story is not for sensitive people.
> 
> WARNING; The Governor is a sadistic asshole and no one likes him at all. The tag 'Out of Character' was put on this story specifically for him. And that chair thingy Andrea was cuffed to, Rick's cuffed to it this time. Canon divergence. Kind of.

"You, offer yourself up to Woodbury, me. Then I'll let your people go," The Governor suggests, leaning back in his chair as he takes a sip of whiskey.

Rick thinks a moment. Thinks of Carl, Judith, Daryl. How will they react to his death? 'Cause that's what he's doing. Dying for them, right? Sacrificing himself. But then again, they wouldn't be able to react to his death if  _they_ were dead, too, so he didn't really have a choice. A sigh escapes his lips.

"You're gonna leave 'em alone, right?" Rick's eyes narrow. He can't - won't - trust this guy.

The Governor nods. "So, we got ourselves a deal?"

Something in Rick's chest hurts, but he nods. A dark shadow of a smile passes over The Governor's face, disappearing as quickly as it appeared. Rick feels a shiver travel down his spine, whether in fear or in anger he wasn't sure. The Governor stands, snags Rick's wrist in his hands. Okay, there's the dark look.

"Wait-" Rick manages. The Governor turns and stares at him. "Ain't ya gonna kill me?"

The Governor laughs. "Oh,  _sweetheart,_ I never said I was going to kill you."

Oh dear god. _Yeah, well, I think I might want to be dead right about now,_ Rick thinks to himself. He's definitely feeling fear. He feels seriously small right now. The Governor just grins and drags him to the truck, tying his wrists and ankles before throwing him in the back. Rick wishes he'd just listened to Daryl and allowed them to come with him.

But he couldn't risk his group's death. It wasn't worth it. So he let himself get thrown into that truck with minimal resistance. He keeps telling himself that it's for his group. They'll be okay if he does this. That's the whole point, right? He came here to work out a deal, and he got one.

But that barely did anything to sedate the fear overtaking him.

The Governor sits in the driver's seat and revs the engine a bit before staring at Rick through the rear-view mirror. Rick breaks eye contact, staring out the window as they start towards Woodbury. Something inside of him aches, and he suddenly feels very homesick. He just has to get through whatever the hell is going to happen, then he'll get to go back home.

Unless The Governor intends on keeping him hostage forever.

That's a thought Rick prefers not to think about. Unfortunately, it's the only one in his damn head. A sigh escapes his lips and he puts his forehead on the glass of the truck's window. Another thought is, what if when he's holding Rick hostage, he just takes the prison anyway? He knows where the damn place is.

Truth be told, he doesn't even  _want_ to know what the hell is about to happen. When The Governor said 'offer yourself,' Rick figured he meant sacrifice himself. Not...whatever the fuck this is. A dark realization crosses his mind.

The Governor had called him 'sweetheart.'

That could only mean one thing. And that one thing was not going to be good. Still, he shoves his fear away and bottles it up. There's no point in feeling afraid. He can't afford to look vulnerable. It wouldn't do good, not on his end.

"By the way," Rick says, eyes narrow slits, "I'm not your  _sweetheart._ "

This earns a chuckle from The Governor. "I don't think you understand the situation," he answers.

"I do," Rick snaps.

"No, you don't," The Governor says. "You sacrificed yourself. I get to do what I want with you now."

Rick's brow furrows. "You ain't touchin' me," he snarls.

"No? I could hightail it back to the prison," The Governor suggests. "Kill you right in front of them."

A sigh of defeat escapes his lips. He doesn't say anything, just glares out the window. The Governor is only one man, but there was no way Rick and his family could escape together if they ended back up at the prison. It was a lose/lose situation on his end.

They finally end up at Woodbury, and The Governor yanks Rick out of the back, too harshly. His tied ankles cause him to stumble and fly to the ground, landing with a harsh 'oof' before he's yanked back up again.

"What the hell is this? I thought you two were going to make a deal," Andrea says, practically stomping over to The Governor.

Rick eyes her with a warning glance. It doesn't work.

"We did make a deal, Andrea," The Governor smiles darkly, "He sacrificed himself for his people."

A look of disbelief falls onto her face. "What'd you do to him? That isn't like him at all."

"I didn't do anything, he did it himself."

"You suggested it, not me. I only agreed so you'd leave them alone," Rick clarifies bitterly, his eyes angry. "But hey, maybe you'll just keep me here and kill them all the same."

Rick knows that this was very well possible. If it were the case, at least he could say he tried. Or maybe this isn't trying, maybe this is something closer to giving up. Shame and guilt quickly overcome him, silencing the anger brewing inside of him. He could've shot The Governor right then and there. He  _should've._

"Anyway, if you'll excuse us," The Governor says.

His polite way for saying 'get the fuck out of my way.'

With a sigh and a shake of her head, Andrea turns and walks down the street the other way. The Governor practically drags Rick across the street, bringing him to one of his 'torture rooms,' as they were so often used for the sole purpose. They come to a room with a single chair in the middle, cuffs on each of the armrests. Rick's stomach does a back flip. A double back flip.

He shoves the heels of his feet into the ground in a weak attempt of resistance. He pushes his shoulder blades into The Governor's torso, pushing with all his strength.

"Quit squirming, dammit," The Governor hisses, shoving Rick off of him.

He stumbles across the room and trips for the second time that day. Again, he's yanked up, only this time it's by his neck. He flails his bound wrists angrily, trying to squirm free, to no avail.

"I'm not gonna be handcuffed like an animal!" Rick growls as The Governor shoves Rick into the chair.

The Governor holds Rick down with his torso while he cuts the bindings off of Rick's wrists, only to cuff each of them into the chair. He cuts the ropes off of his legs too, because there's no reason to leave them tied up anymore.

"I'll leave you here to sit for a bit," he tells him, "Then I'll be back tonight."

He leaves the room, and Rick hears him lock the door behind himself. He has until tonight to find a way free. Rick strains against the cuffs, but they only dig into his skin painfully. He grunts as he strains again, yanking the cuffs over and over again.

He's a cop. He should know that yanking them isn't going to do anything.

~

Rick isn't sure exactly how much time passes before The Governor gets back, but he knows it's been a while because he's parched. The Governor brings an array of things in, most of them making Rick very uneasy. A huge collection of different knives with different blades, scissors, razor blades, anything sharp. Then, on his hip, Rick notices his Colt Python.

The Governor speaks up before he has a chance to say anything. "Do anything wrong, and I'll shoot you with this."

How hilarious. If he screws up, he'll be shot by his own gun. It's not like it adds to the threat or anything. It could be some random gun from a dead guy, that wouldn't change the fact that it was lethal. The Governor notices Rick's bloody wrists, of which sting like a bitch.

"You really thought you could get out of here that easily?" The Governor scoffs. "Even if you  _did_ get out, you'd be shot down. See? You're mine now, Rick. You're helpless."

Rick cringes at those words. "I ain't yours," he says coldly, glaring daggers at the man.

"Not yet, at least," The Governor agrees. "But, I'm going to fix that."

He grabs one of the knives, a tiny one with a serrated blade. Rick flinches ever so slightly when The Governor lightly drags the blade across his cheek, leaving nothing but a cold trail. Then he tosses the knife back onto the tray and starts undoing the cuffs.

"Before you get your hopes up," he says as he sets one of Rick's hands free, "I have five guards outside that door. Try anything, and it'll be them or me that shoots you."

"Then why the fuck are you takin' the damn cuffs off?" Rick spits, anger boiling his blood.

The Governor pauses a moment as he takes the cuffs off his other wrist. "We're going to...play."

"Play? The fuck are you talkin' abou-"

The Governor rips Rick out of his seat and throws him into the wall. His vision blurs a moment before he's tossed to the ground, The Governor hovering over him.

"You know, maybe I  _could_ kill you, but that'd be a lot less fun, Rick. I think," he says, "I'd rather play with you for a little bit."

"Stay away from me," Rick speaks, scrambling backwards, only to hit a corner of the room. Sweat drips down his forehead in beads, soaking his curls.

"That isn't going to happen, you know that," the other replies, a freakish grin on his face. The fucker was  _grinning._

The Governor closes in on Rick like a predator to prey, getting in his personal space. They were so close that their foreheads were almost touching. Rick wants to run, to get away, but he knows what's waiting for him outside so he just closes his eyes and tries to shut everything out. He's like a caged animal, just waiting to be caught, only the thing is, he's already stuck.

He feels fingers start to unbuckle his belt.

"Stop that!" Rick demands, kicking The Governor as hard as he could in the leg.

This earns him some time, and he scrambles over to the tray of knives, just to be kicked down by The Governor. It takes him a moment to gather his breath, but by then, The Governor is already holding a bigger blade to his neck.

"You sure you want it to go down this way?" he smirks.

Rick sighs, puts his hands up in mock surrender, then spits in The Governor's face.

"Asshole," he snarls.

The Governor smiles sadistically before tossing the knife  _just_ out of Rick's reach. His fingers return to doing what they were before, pulling the belt out of Rick's pair of jeans. He ties the strap around his wrists, Rick flinching when the material rubs against his bloody cuts.

The Governor yanks Rick's jeans and under garments down in one tug, then unbuckles his own belt.

Rick feels seriously exposed, so he looks the other way and squeezes his eyes shut. He did this for them. It's all worth it if they can stay alive in the end. He repeats this thought in his head as best as he can, though soon the fear in his stomach overtakes him and he realizes he's shaking terribly.

It takes all Rick has not to scream in pain when The Governor slams into him.

The pain practically blinds him, or maybe it's just his tears blurring his vision. He tries to squirm away, but again, he's helpless. The Governor is gripping his hips so hard that he knows they'll bruise. He doesn't make a sound, not wanting to please The Governor in any way. He just clenches his teeth over his tongue, the metallic taste of blood filling his mouth.

He's unsure of how long he can hold out, because it seems that with each thrust The Governor makes, it just hurts more and more.

The other man is making grunts above him, and he's disgusted. His instincts are screaming at him to fight back, but he knows that'd only end badly. He clenches his teeth, stops, then clenches them again. He occupies his mind with this, trying not to think about how he's being violated.

Rick feels his cheeks get wet with tears that finally spill over. The Governor is still pounding into him, and he's sure there's going to be blood, lots of it. For the second time that day, Rick wishes he'd just gotten killed.

It isn't until much later that The Governor finally comes, meaning his reign of torture is over. For now.

Rick can't bring himself to move, he just lays on the cement floor until his exhaustion catches up to him and he drifts in unconsciousness.

~

Rick awakes in the chair again, cuffed once more. It's pitch black, and his hips and ass-end are seriously sore. For now, he's just thankful he has a chair to sit in. Still, he's very uncomfortable. It takes him a moment to remember where he was, what happened.

He's tired, exhausted. He doesn't want to think about what happened the previous night...if it'd even been that long. He knows that it's bound to happen again, but he'll delay it as long as he can. He has to.

His stomach growls loudly and it's then that he realizes how hungry he is.

Other thoughts are brewing in his mind, and he wonders how he didn't wake up when he was moved into the chair. There was no doubt in Rick's mind that The Governor is the one who moved him over here, mainly because he's positive these little holding rooms of his are top secret.

He hasn't eaten since before he left to see The Governor, which was at least twenty-four hours ago at the very least. He wants to call out for food, but he also doesn't want to. He's going to have to be fed sometime, if The Governor intends on keeping him alive.

_Hungry. Hungry. Hungry._

The word bounces around in his head, as if to taunt him. It only makes his stomach growl louder, and he knows he  _needs_ to eat. He strains against the cuffs again, and his cuts sting. He feels fresh blood trickle down his wrists, but he strains anyway, as if he'd be able to get out.

Rick grunts, hissing as he inhales a breath. His wounds disagree with the pain. Eventually, he retreats to a sitting position on the chair. Straining is only giving him more pain, and not just on his wrists.

He dozes in and out of consciousness for the next three hours or so, waking up only by sharp pangs of hunger in his stomach. Eventually, he wakes up fully, due to his neck aching from sleeping in an awkward position.

It's still dark, but he hears footsteps, and his muscles immediately tense. Out of instinct, he reaches for his Colt that isn't there. He can't even get his hand that far, anyway.

The door is practically thrown open, showering the room in blinding light. Rick reaches to cover his eyes, only for the cuffs to restrain him again. The Governor walks into the room, holding a tray of  _food._ That's all that matters, not the fact that it's The Governor carrying it. It's food, and he needs it. His captor sets the tray on the table. Rick can't peel his eyes off of it.

"You look like a rabid dog," The Governor laughs as he watches Rick's eyes.

"Starving me isn't going to fix anything," Rick says, glaring at the man.

"Yeah, but it'll make you suffer. That's the whole point, it's what you deserve for attacking our town," The Governor clarifies.

"You kidnapped two of our people!" Rick snaps, his eyes going cold. For a moment, he forgets the food.

The Governor just shrugs it off as if it were nothing. "I don't suppose you want any of this?" he questions as he takes a huge bite out of a sandwich, making a huge deal out of it.

Rick doesn't answer, just glares at him harder, his stomach rumbling loudly. The other man obnoxiously licks his fingers after finishing off the sandwich, smirking as he does so.

"I take that as a no?" He digs into the second sandwich.

If Rick were not starving and cuffed, The Governor would be dead by now. "Gimme some of that shit," he demands, almost laughing because the sentence is worded so funnily.

"Mm," The Governor finishes off the last bit of food from the tray, "I don't think so. You're not dead yet."

With that, he takes the tray and walks out of the room, leaving Rick worse off than he was before.

~

Another day - maybe? Rick isn't sure anymore. - passes and Rick's practically dying.

_Starving. Starving. Starving._

It's almost like an alarm is blaring in his head, telling him he eats to eat right-fucking-now or else he'll regret it, by being dead. Any energy he had has long since drained away, leaving him barely clinging to consciousness. If anything, The Governor was right about one thing.

He's suffering.

He wonders if Daryl is looking for him. If Carl and the others are worried. Or, if they're even alive for that fact. The Governor hasn't come in to even check on him in a day, leaving the former sheriff worried that he's off to kill them anyway.

If he is, then everything failed and he's just going to be kept here until he dies.

Rick thinks for a brief moment that sacrificing himself was a bad idea. But then the possibility that The Governor is holding true to his word crosses the young man's mind. It's that tinge of hope that keeps Rick together. It's that tinge of hope that makes him think, in the long run, that it'll be worth it. Even if he isn't alive to see it.

_Food. Need food. Gonna die._

His thoughts are barely composed anymore, just small tinges of sentences because he's so frantic. He can't focus, the realization that he's going to die like an animal slamming into him full force.

Well, at least he can say he tried.


End file.
